Ye must choofe your faces wisely
by kamefootninja
Summary: Returning back to Crowley's apartment, they should be celebrating their victory. But instead they are caught up in just what Agnus Nutter's last prophecy means for them
1. Chapter 1

_'When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre.'_

The last three words were imprinted on his brain, burned into his memory now with the horrible thoughts of what it must mean. And yet Aziraphale keep staring at the scrap of paper, like it might suddenly give him a better understanding. But most of it hadn't been given a lot of thought by the Angel. It's the 'playing with Fyre' bit that filled the angels gut with a deep sickening feeling.

Aziraphale and Crowley had been sat, in almost silence for what felt like days, but we're in fact merely just over an hour. They should be celebrating, and of course they had been, at first. But once the hype of saving the entire planet, and preventing armoggendan, died down, they were left with the reality of their situation.

It was the reason Aziraphale had agreed to come to Crowley's house, somewhere they never met before for fear of being caught, but that didn't matter anymore did it? And it's not like he had his bookstore to go back to. He'd lost everything. His 'side', his store, his unwavering loyalty to heaven, even his body if Adam hadn't of returned it. Both sides now knew about them, and both sides would want revenge for the war they couldn't win.

"Am I…. Does it mean…" There was real fear in Aziraphale's voice, not looking up from the last three words on the prophecy. What hit Crowley the hardest, was the utter accepting despair he felt coming from his best friend. "I'm going to fall aren't I?" Even with heaven forsaken him, he was terrified of falling. His faith was shaken, but not destroyed. His loyalty wasn't gone from god or goodness, just in the angels who he had finally come to realise might not be looking out for humanity's best interests, only in their own personal agenda.

"You won't fall." Crowley wishes his voice was strong, and confident, but it's not. It's quiet, sorry, and aching with sadness on behalf of his friend. But before Aziraphale had the chance to say anything, or try to gleam some false hope from that statement, he continued in the same regretful voice. "Hell hates you as much as me… there's no place for you to fall."

Aziraphale takes those words, and gives a grim nod. Despite himself, he takes a little comfort from that. If an angel can't fall, then all that's left is utter destruction. '_At least I'll die an angel'_ is his bittersweet thought. With a loud sigh he puts the scrap of paper on the table beside him, next to the almost untouched glass of wine.

Crowley looked over the scrap of paper, skimming the words again quickly, even turning the paper to check the back. "Doesn't give us much does it?" He felt like there was an obvious message here, but there were completely overlooking it. Though he didn't blame the Angel for panicking at the word Fyre, it was a terrifying thing to think about.

"The bit about choosing Faces. What do you make of that?" Crowley was curious, he had a couple of ideas, but he wanted to know Aziraphale's opinion on it. If nothing else, it was a slightly less depressing topic then an angels possible fall. He'd briefly made a comment on the way here that they needed to choose their faces wisely.

Aziraphale sighed, trying to pull himself away from more and more depressing thoughts. He'd accepted his fate, so why is it so hard to get it off his mind. "Oh, uh. Choosing sides I imagine. Picking if we're seen as angels or demons… pity we can't be somewhere in between really."

" 'Choose your faces wisely' that _could_ just mean disguise yourself though." Crowley pointed out, drinking generously from his glass as he came to sit on the arm of the chair Aziraphale was currently brooding in.

"Well, yes, maybe. But it wouldn't work. Both sides would be able to sense the presence of the occult and ethereal." Aziraphale didn't seem to put much more thought into that theory, trying to dismiss it with a wave of his hand. Disguising themselves as mortals wouldn't work, heaven and hell would see right through it.

"But it's not exact. I don't know about your lot, but demons can only sense the general area an angel is, not an individual." Crowley had latched onto an idea, and the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like it might work. "So, if we were together, they can't tell which of us is the angel or demon."

"Yes. But they know us Crowley, it's not like they aren't going to recogn..." Aziraphale stopped, and frowned, his brow furrowing in thought for a moment, before he looked up at the contemplating demon. "Wait. You can't possibly be infuring…" He raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering if they might be reading the signs wrong. Surely they couldn't pull off something like that and not be caught out.

"That's _exactly_ what I'm inferring. If we're together they can't tell us apart. _'Choose your faces wisely_'. Hide in plain sight and let them find _us_. Make them think that we're not who we say we are." Crowley's yellow eyes lit up, becoming more and more convinced that this would work now they were on the same page. "Can't be that hard to pull off. After six thousand years we have to know each other well enough to fool them by now."

"Okay. So supposing that this crazy plan works. What happens then? We have no idea what our punishment is going to _be_." Aziraphale had expected that he would fall, though as Crowley pointed out, there was nowhere left for him to fall too. But Crowley on the other hand, there was no mistake.

"You're not stupid Aziraphale. You know as well as I do that they aren't going to let us walk away from this." One look at the angels face and he knew that there wasn't going to be any objection to his statement. Getting up from the arm of the chair, Crowley took another much needed glass of alcohol, throwing it back in one big gulp. "One way or another, both sides are going to want us destroyed. Possibly as soon as tomorrow." He doubted they'd attack today, there was too much mess to clean up, troops to disappoint and plans to be made in how to deal with the 'traitors'.

"Now, I can't speak for heaven." He continued, in a voice that said he very well knew he was stating the obvious, as he paced slightly in front of Aziraphale, a habit he had when he was trying to plan out a scenario that didn't come naturally to him. "But the quickest, and most efficient way to kill an Angel is hellfire."

"Holy water." Aziraphale supplied, surprisingly calm given the knot in his chest at the thought of what heaven would do to a demon like Crowley. "How heaven would do it." He explained with a sigh. "It's the only way to efficiently make sure a demon stays down."

"Right." Crowley shivered at the thought. He knew damn well what he'd have to use the gifted holy water for, and he'd finally made good on his 'insurance', he was more than aware how effective and agonising holy water was. "So we swap faces…. I won't burn, not in hellfire, and you can't... In holy water."

"You really think that's what's going to happen." Aziraphale's voice was soft, resigned to their fate, but there was the smallest seeds of hope in his tone. "They drag the angel down to hell. And a demon to heaven?"

"I don't know. But it's not like Hell has a supply of holy water to use. And I doubt heaven would dare try to tame hellfire." There wasn't really much else they could do, save destroying them here on earth, which now that he thought of it, would be a neutral ground.

They were both disturbed by how Gabriel and Beelzebub had seemed to be willing to cooperate, united over a common goal, and now common enemies. Who knows what would happen if those barriers break down, or if they would still choose to war despite no knowing the 'ineffable' plan.

Aziraphale seemed to contemplate the whole situation for a long time, paying no attention to Crowley, who had finally stopped pacing to sit on the sofa opposite the angel. That in itself was odd, how he sat rigid instead of his usual slouch, and waiting for the silence to break, staring out at the crackling fire that hadn't existed before tonight.

"We don't have much of a choice do we?" Aziraphale finally sighed, glancing at the scrap of prophecy for a moment, before clearing his throat to try and sound more confident. "We've known each other for over six thousand years… it can't be, _too_ hard. Just for one day." He was building himself up, convincing himself more than Crowley at this point, and didn't falter when the demons serpentine eyes flicked over to regard him carefully.

"Neither of us knows what's going to happen. We have to be ready for anything." His voice was slow and deliberate, making sure each word was heard and understood. "Are you sure about this Aziraphale. Last chance to change your mind."

"If we don't, then I'm afraid there won't _be_ a mind to change for much longer. I've grown rather attached to this form, and to earth." Aziraphale didn't back down, locking himself into his fate. "Like it or not, this might be the only way to save us both from…." He couldn't say it, not out loud like this, it stuck in his throat like tar, so he shook his head, instead extending out his hand for the demon to take.

Crowley eyed the hand wearily. He wasn't as confident as he sounded, but he was sure there was no other way. "That witch better be right about this." He muttered, before raising his eyes to Aziraphale's soft, scared, but determined eyes. "For what it's worth, I'm pretty attached to the world too." And with a lopsided smile, Crolwey reached out his hand to grasp his oldest friends.

Whatever happened now, was metaphorically, out of their hands.


	2. Chapter 2

Nothing happened at first. They stayed with their hands clasped tightly, but their eternal souls seemed to have no desire to merge or switch places. Closing their eyes in perfect unison, they had to work a little to force the transfer.

Crowley had not had to possess another's body in many millennia, he didn't like it, wasn't his style of demonic activity, and being inside a human felt so wrong. But Aziraphale wasn't human, he was an angel, and somehow that thought was both comforting, and even more wrong. He'd been an angel once, a long time ago, he didn't like the idea of getting a taste again for possessing a divine soul.

Aziraphale had possessed exactly one body, completely human, not so long ago, so his essence was more accepting of the transfer. Or it would have been, if the demonic presence trying to push against his angelic light didn't feel like such an instinctual threat.

By the time they finally made the transfer, both were a little worn out, with their hands clasped together, eyes closed even tighter, and adjusting to the feeling of breathing, which they didn't need to do, with lungs that weren't theirs.

It was Crowley who opened his eyes first. Well, the angel's eyes technically. Squinting at the light through more human eyes. He loosened his grip slightly while his other hand, more plump that he was used to, came up to cover his eyes until he got used to it. The light seemed to be both external and internal, an ancient power that was long lost to one fallen like Crowley .

It felt just on the wrong, or right, side of overwhelming. Like the power was making itself known, that it alone could tear this mortal form to shreds, but somehow managed to hold itself in. Crowley was breathing heavily, squirming in his seat as he felt soft, white wings manifest of their own accord, relieving some of the pressure for the buildup of power.

The whole angelic body felt warm, and lighter than and it had any right to be, despite the obvious extra weight he was carrying. It was strange to say the least. The feeling of not being quite right, but hot white power settling into a constant presence, like a pressure to be worthy of, in case the power chose to fade away from you.

Crowley's grip may have loosened, finally relaxing into the new and odd sensation, but Aziraphale had tightened almost painfully. His whole demonic body shaking slightly, like he was straining himself to keep still and calm. "Ssssomthing isssss wrong." The small, scared, pained hiss felt very wrong coming from Crowley's lips, but the Angel inside was clearly in pain.

"Angel?" Crowley hesitated only slightly, the sound of the word felt strange in Aziraphale's voice, but he didn't have time to dwell on that now. "_Aziraphale, please_. What's happening. I know, it's hard, but focus on your words, you need to tell me what's wrong."

"Burnssssssss."

"_Shit_." Crowley froze, then let out a long shaky sigh of understanding. "I'm sorry Angel. I'd forgotten." He was so stupid. He'd forgotten about the burning, the background noise and pain that came from damnation, faded into the background, and after so many thousand years you learned to ignore it.

"Forgottttttten?!" Yellow serpentine eyes flew open, and for the first time Crolwey understood why people cowered in fear from his gaze. "Thissssssss, is normal for you?" There was anger in the hiss, but also a pang of sorrow, that didn't feel right in the demon's voice at all.

"Yes. Hellfire never really goes away. You have to try to forget about it." Another wave of anger hit Crowley, powerful enough that it didn't need words, it physically made him flinch back. In this angelic body, the anger hit him in a physical wave, it felt like a swift stab in the chest, but he still hadn't let go of the other's hand. "Aziraphale! You have to control yourself. Focus on something…. this form, on the eyes, on the feeling of.. of this bodie's warmth." He felt embarrassment, not from the Demon body in front of him, but from his own soul. It was like he was forced to share this secret he'd been hiding for years.

The white angelic wings fluttered slightly from the force of the sheer negative emotion rolling off the scared emotional demonic form, but it made Crowley think of something, in his rush to quell the emotions and soothe Aziraphale's pain. "I know, I'm not you. But this body. Your warmth, it's calming, helps _me_ focus. Just focus on me, on my… on your voice and our hands. Let yo… my wings out. I know this is weird, but trust me, it helps."

The look of anger, was now tinged with confusion, but mercifully Aziraphale seemed to be focusing completely on Crowley's words, oddly juxtaposed in Aziraphale's own voice. He could feel more than see the other relaxing, and it felt odd to be able to physically feel relief other than his own.

"Good. That's great, just keep focusing on me okay." He watched as with a low hiss of exertion, the ebony wings manifested, and curled close to the form they belonged to. It was bizarre, watching your own body working independently to you. "Feel Better? You're doing great, okay. The glasses would help, but right now you need to be able to see yo..these eyes."

Crowley had been an angel once, a very, very long time ago. So long ago that time hadn't existed, so he had no way of expressing just how long ago it was. But he's not had to soothe someone like this, or consciously put out positive energy like he was trying to do right now, with his almost non existent understanding of what he was meant to do. He was glad that for once, Aziraphale wouldn't be able to read his emotions or feelings, because right now he was putting out all the love he had for his oldest friend, to try and force him to calm down until he could manage it himself.

Still keeping a firm grip on Aziraphale's hand, he came to sit beside him on the sofa, not breaking eye contact for a second. He felt foolish for his own embarrassment, but right now Aziraphale was the only thing he cared about. Gently, and slow enough not to startle the conflicted and confused Angel, he brought a hand up to softly stroke along the feathers of the black wings, feeling for the first time the strange tingle of divine hands touching the cursed feathers.

Slowly Aziraphale seemed to be able to think enough to control his anger, and once the rage calmed, the flame seemed to simmer down as well, until they weren't so excruciating to bare anymore. Crowley didn't stop stroking the black feathers of the wings, not yet, he knew how relaxing and comforting it felt, not that he'd experienced it much in his time as a demon.

Eventually, Aziraphale's grip loosened, and he broke eye contact to look down at the hands that weren't his, but yet were at the moment. He looked tired as he managed to calm himself enough to think straight.

"It's not going to go away. When I'm not here, you're going to have to try and control it yourself." Crowley reminded Aziraphale, the angel's own voice soft and showing more regret then the demon was used to hearing from his own words. "It'll probably flair up in waves for a while. Hopefully the worst will be over by tomorrow." Otherwise they might be in trouble, Crowley was too old to pass off the fires being a bother to him, the demons would pick up on it quickly if Aziraphale couldn't keep his control.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Aziraphale spoke through a demon's voice, but it was soft, and careful. The hissing faded into the background of his speech, not as pronounced as before. It didn't quite sound like Crowley, but it didn't sound like Aziraphale either, it was soft, and thoughtful, slow and deliberate. He was focusing on the words too hard for them not to come out as he intended.

"I told you. It was a very long time since I was an angel. A long time, to get used to the feeling of being dammed." Crowley spoke with Aziraphale's voice, but the soft, caring tone, it wasn't unlike the tone he heard often when they were alone together, or the demon was having a bad day.

"I didn't…. I underssssstand that... I meant… do I really make you feel more relaxxxxed?" Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, his own demonic eyes looking far too soft for a demon. "If I had known then maybe I would ha…"

"Would have done what? Made the effort to be there for me? Try to actively soothe my condemned soul? That's _exactly_ why I never said anything, angel. I don't need a therapist." He scoffed, and that was a sound to remember. The sound of prim and proper Aziraphale scoffing over something like that. "Besides. You're a better friend than anything else."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and apart from the little tut, it did feel natural to the demon who's body he currently resided in. "And what about you. Anytttthing…. Troubling you about being an angel?"

Crowley noticed the way his body was squinting, and automatically reached down to grab the sunglasses that had fallen from the table onto the floor. "Here, trust me, these help." And he pretty much put the glasses on his counterpart himself, feeling, as well as seeing, the soft relief washing over them, should he even think of him as an angel like this? Crowley decided he should, it was still Aziraphale in that body after all.

Crowley shifted a little uncomfortably on his seat. He hadn't been thinking or focusing on his own body, the light headed airiness that came form literally being 'holier than thou'. "It's. More like an ache… not too unpleasant. Definitely not painful." He supplied lamely. "Though I can see why you're always so tetchy all the time… the emotions…"

If Crowley was being honest with himself, which was rare, but did happen on occasion, he had expected a slight sense of familiarity. Maybe a treacherous sense of wanting to keep the light he'd once lost. But his soul didn't even seem to recognise the holy essence as something he used to have. It was comforting, in a way it shouldn't be, to know even your very soul doesn't crave to retrieve that so called 'perfect' life you walked away from.

"Ah yesssss, well, I'm afraid that is sssomething I rather forgot to mention myssself." Aziraphale admitted, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa, it was like his bones didn't want to support him sitting completely upright, so he slouched as much as his wings would allow him, trying to get a little more comfortable. And maybe the new position, coincidently, made him lean slightly into the hand no longer stroking, and merely resting against, his? Wing, with a little hum of contentment to have the contact back. "I guessss, you're probably a lot better at massssking your emotions than I am… but, sstrong negative emotions, well, there may be a more sssselfish reason for why I like to brighten people's day."

Crowley nodded his head in understanding. If this was what the Angel felt whenever anyone had a bad day, then no wonder he tried to make sure people around him were happy and content. He wondered how positive emotions felt, if they were just as overwhelming, but he suspected they just felt really nice. He looked over to catch his eye, see what emotions lay behind them at admitting his selfishness, but with the glasses on, it was almost impossible to see. "I'm starting to see why you don't like wearing those things."

They should have thought this through more carefully, talked it out and realised exactly what they were getting into by swapping bodies. Crowley felt terrible, he'd gotten off lightly, apart from the raw power and light running through his veins, this actual body was very human like. Aziraphale on the other hand, had gotten the worst of it. Crowley's demonic nature was barely human, his tendencies and control almost animalistic if not for thousands of years of self control. Control that Aziraphale needed to get in less than twenty four hours if this was going to work.

"First things first. For the love of whoever, you need to control the damn hissing."


	3. Chapter 3

"How do you ssssstop hisssssing?" Now that the worst of the physical pain and shock was fading, Aziraphale was trying to wrap his head around just how different the demons body was. He'd expected that things like the hissing would just be a Crowley thing, something he personally did, not his actual demonic nature. How he passed as a human at all was beyond him, because right now Aziraphale wouldn't be able to convince anyone of anything.

"Uh, practice I guess." Crowley shrugged, he'd not thought about it much before, in hell it was common for demons to not sound entirely human, but spending so long on earth rubbed off on you. It hadn't been much harder for Crowley to control his hissing, then it was for humans to pick up a new accent after spending a long time in a foreign land. "You have to really focus on the words. Might help talking a little slower?"

"Honessstly Crowley. It seemssss like you don't know mucch about your body at all."

Aziraphale took a nice long calming breath, something that again was strange, but probably going to get even weirder by the time they were done. Their voices, apart from the hissing, weren't quite right. And he could feel himself, as well as see Aziraphale, didn't look natural at all.

"Okay, sso. We should have thought thiss through more carefully." It wasn't perfect, but Aziraphale was happy that it was at least a little more human this time, it was a start. "Do you still think thiss is going to work?" They didn't have much choice, but if it was doomed to fail then they could at least try to come up with something else in the limited time they had left.

"It has to."

Crowley shifted uncomfortably, not able to get comfortable on the sofa in his usual relaxed manner. The whole body felt stiff, like the angel had no flexibility whatsoever, all the joints and bones felt too tense and rigid. He ended up sitting with his back straight , one arm leaning against the side of the chair. He couldn't even cross his legs properly, not with the stiffness in his limbs and the extra weight.

He decided that maybe being just a little less sober would loosen them up and help them relax a little more, it was worth a shot after all, if nothing else it would maybe make this a little less embarrassing for them. Well, not really, but they wouldn't care as much if they were just the wrong side of being tipsy after all. So without really thinking, he snatched up the wine bottle he'd been drinking from earlier and poured two generous glasses, he was about to throw it back, but stopped to stare at the liquid in the glass instead.

"Aziraphale…. Is this red?"

"Of coursse it's red, you always change it to red." The angel pretended to hate it when Crowley changed his expensive white wine, but over the years it had become sort of endearing, how he never failed to transmute the alcohol to suit his tastes. Aziraphale only half glanced at the wine, not seeing why the demon even brought it up. It was only when he got no reply that he looked closer at the colour, and realised that it wasn't really red. That's to say, it was a pale, washed out and desaturated ghost of what the colour Red should be.

A quick look around confirmed that it wasn't just the liquid. Everything that had been the bright red pop of colour in Crowley's apartment, was now the same washed out pale imitation of itself. He hadn't noticed before, because he'd been very distracted, and his eyes had mostly been focused on his own form. His body that, apart from the eyes which seemed a little brighter than usual, looked exactly the same, the colours completely unchanged.

"Crowley… are you colour blind?" His voice wasn't angry this time, just dumbfounded. After six thousand years you'd think he knew everything about the demon, but apparently there was a lot he never mentioned. Though the way Crolwey looked right now, was it possible he didn't know until now either?

Crowley's eyes had wandered from the glass of alcohol, and was now staring at the gently roaring fire, seemingly captivated by the flames. He was suddenly realising why Hastur liked setting things on fire so much. "Huh?" It took a few seconds before he shook his head and turned to face Aziraphale properly, only slightly distracted by the vibrancy of his own ginger hair. "I guess that would make sense." His voice still seemed a little far away, taking in the strange revelation that he had no memory of colours this bright and vibrant.

"Crowley. You've had this body for over sssix thousand years, how can you not know you're colour blind?" Surely he must have realised something was off. When Aziraphale gushed over an outfit, or the bright and pretty flowers they passed in the park, surely Crowley must have known what they looked like?

"Its worse when I'm a snake." Crowley admitted, with a shrug. "So I assumed it was the same for everyone." He couldn't remember seeing the world any differently, it was perfectly normal for him that colours weren't a loud as they looked to him now, literally seeing through someone else's eyes. He still wasn't completely convinced, for all he knew the Angel could see better than a human, so it might not be a good comparison.

One thing he did know, was that he was glad his interior design choice was mostly blacks and greys, the slight dash of red was distracting enough now he noticed how much it stood out. "Feel like I need those glasses more if all colours are this bright." He joked, making a vague gesture towards his eyes. To his surprise the glasses moved from Aziraphale, onto his own face. Did he just...

Aziraphale's little hiss at suddenly not having the thin shield over his eyes was oddly characteristic of how Crowley would have reacted as well. "I think we sshould keep the miracles for important matters. Don't want to attract their attention until we need to." The angel pointed out, not that he thought something so small would even register upstairs, if they did, then he'd have had more than a few comments about misusing miracles over the years. His unintentional hissing was slowly getting better the more he spoke though, so that was an improvement.

"I didn't mean to do it is the thing." Crowley looked down at the plump, well manicured hand like it was solely responsible. As much as he liked having the glasses on, he knew he couldn't get used to it in this body, so he handed them back a little sheepishly. "No wonder you got pulled up for frivolous miracles." He muttered, half to himself. It had just happened so naturally, this body used to using its power regularly enough that it was almost automatic by this point. Hopefully that only happened with 'frivolous' miracles, he'd hate to accidentally do something big and not know how to stop it.

Taking a drink of the wine, he pulled a face at the bitter taste, it didn't taste bad, but it had tasted better before. He liked richer, more bitter tastes to his alcohol than Aziraphale did. That's not to say that he found the taste unpleasant now, but it wasn't as nice as he'd expected it to be. This body isn't used to, or as keen on the taste as his own. Looking over at Aziraphale, he noticed the exact opposite reaction. The fussy angel was usually a white wine drinker, but he seemed to be happily enjoying the less than sweet red. Great, apparently taste was a thing to take into consideration as well.

By the time he took a second sip, it had miraculously turned back to white, though he wasn't sure if it was intentional or not. Having a different pallet was the least of their worries, they didn't need to eat or drink anything really, so it didn't seem important to get used to. It was just a strange sensation to experience.

After downing the rest of the wine, Crowley nervously got up to start pacing again, only he wobbled and had to catch himself on the arm of the chair, angelic wings fluttering to help him try and regain his balance. This body may feel light from the angelic powers inside, but it was a good deal heavier, and just plain bigger in every way. Standing up he noticed again just how stiff his joints felt, despite the soft layer of chub. He heard a little snort behind him and caught Aziraphale biting his lip to try and avoid making the teasing comment that was clearly on his mind.

"This is going to be a lot harder than I thought." Crowley admitted, taking a few slow steps, he supposed this was similar to how humans felt on the moon. Suddenly heavier, and things like gravity and balance being thrown completely off. He wasn't looking forward to when he inevitably would have to de-manifest the wings though, because right now he needed them for balance.

Curious himself now, and very cautious, Aziraphale put down his wine glass and stood to try and walk. Tried being the important word here, because almost immediately he fell forwards with a short cry of surprise into the coffee table. Pushing himself up, he reacted by trying to cover his embarrassment with a glare, which could just about be seen over the glasses that now lay askew on his face.

"Crowley, for heaven's ssssssake, do you even _have_ bonesssss?" There was nothing sturdy about the demons body, all sharp lines, flexible features and almost too thin built. Honestly Aziraphale was partly surprised Crowley could even stand upright, though maybe that explained why he swayed slightly when stood still, and how he didn't so much as sit in chairs, as lounge on them, practically laying down in a sprawl.

Crowley considered saying 'probably', because he could choose to not have bones, being a serpent as well as demon meant he could find some middle ground if it was more convenient. But he rightfully assumed that would just distress the angel, so he chose to just smile instead, and offer him a hand up. Which Aziraphale took with a rather undignified grunt of acknowledgement.

"You'd think two occult beings would be able to work this out." He had to laugh. They had helped prevent Armageddon, and yet they couldn't even walk and talk right now. "Sorry occult and _ethereal._" He added, because he could practically see the argument on the tip of Aziraphale, somewhat too thin, tongue.

It was going to be a long night.


End file.
